


A push & a pull

by scenerv



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, I suppose, M/M, Poetry, Prose Poem, Sorry Not Sorry, Tags Are Hard, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Why Did I Write This?, aka he's a depressed boi, i mean...., until the end, what are these tags, while Jun is a sunshine, wonwoos is empty as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 10:13:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15313296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scenerv/pseuds/scenerv
Summary: Junhui is a push and Wonwoo is a pull, Junhui is soft and everything Wonwoo is not





	A push & a pull

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm currently in China visiting my family and in China twt,Ig etc... Don't work,only wechat and weibo(and QQ but that's a hassle) so uh, if you dm'ed me and I don't respond it's not cause I'm ignoring you.  
> K enjoy

The first time they meet, Junhui is full. He is brimming, eyes bright, smiles contagious. Junhui is soft, in every sense of the word. He is warm summer mornings, and quiet fall evenings. He is the foam that tops a latte, a candle shimmering in a dark room. He is the comfort of a parent, and the subtle love of a pet. Junhui is young, and fresh and naïve. Junhui is soft and Junhui is spring, and summer and Autumn.

The first time they meet, Wonwoo is empty. He is hollow, eyes dead, smiles non-existent. Wonwoo is strained, raw, damaged. He is cold bitter mornings, and rushed, distracted evenings. He is the scalding heat of a latte sipped too quickly, a fire waiting to engulf a dark room. He is the bite of an abuser, and the wild rejection of an animal. Wonwoo is young, and spent, and withered. Wonwoo is winter, and Wonwoo is cold.

The first time they meet Junhui whispers words of promise, words filled with sunlight, and happiness and things far away. Junhui is encouragement, eyes dancing, as he brushes away Wonwoo's stray hairs, as he grips his hand, dizzy with alcohol. Junhui pulls, he pulls softly, but with purpose. He pours himself into Wonwoo, with plush lips, and gentle curving hips.

The first time they meet Wonwoo is silent, drinking in the world, relishing in a moment of fleeting emotion, a moment of something. Wonwoo is guarded, eyes cast downwards, as he looks anywhere but Junhui's sparkling eyes, his inviting words. Wonwoo pushes, he pushes hard, but without purpose. He lets himself be filled temporarily, with panting breaths, and hurried hands, and sharp jawlines.

The second time they meet, Junhui is still full, still brimming, still a flash of promises and words and positivity. Still encouraging, still dancing, still doting. This time, there is no alcohol, no veil of hidden intention. Junhui pulls, softly, but with purpose.

Yet Wonwoo still pushes, still filled with silence, still void of purpose. 

The next time they meet, life has become blurred. Junhui pulls, Wonwoo pushes, and they tumble through life together, unsure, unaware, and so dangerously close. Junhui doesn’t ask, and Wonwoo doesn’t answer. Junhui speaks, tone soft, voice always teetering on the edge of singsong, about glamorous things, parties, college, dance. Junhui is a constant, a constant voice, a constant pull, gnawing at Wonwoo, wanting, needing, loving. But Wonwoo pushes, tone harsh, voice always teetering on the edge of cracking, about caverns, and broken hearts, and ruined families. Wonwoo is fleeting, a fleeting presence, a constant push, gnawing at Junhui, wanting, needing, but broken.

Junhui tries, he tries so hard, but Wonwoo is damaged, worn down, heavy. Sometimes he laughs, sometimes he sings, but he always pushing. Junhui is pulling too hard, yet too soft, and Wonwoo has stopped pushing, has stopped wanting, stopped needing, shattering, broken. Wonwoo screams for help, screams in his dreams, screams with his silence, but kicks, fights, hurts Junhui with his words, with his mind, with himself.

Junhui is desperate. Wonwoo is the sunset, disappearing over the horizon, and Junhui is chasing, hoping for a few more minutes of light, of time. Junhui no longer pulls, because there is nothing to hold onto. He is a single tear, running down Wonwoo's cheek, he is a muttered apology, and a closed door. Junhui is beginning to taste winter, to feel the flames of the fire surround him. Junhui is young, naïve and wanting. Always wanting.

Junhui is hollow. Junhui is Wonwoo, and Wonwoo is Junhui. They are both hollow shells, stuck together, in a cruel, unforgiving harsh reality. They tumble through life together, and eventually apart. Junhui doesn’t pull, Wonwoo doesn’t push. They are tired, so ridiculously tired. Wonwoo is anger, and sorrow, Wonwoo is apathy, serving customers with silence, going to and from life, flitting in and out of reality, stuck in a routine, a life that is not living. Junhui is a soft breeze, a college dropout, a dancer who no longer dances, waking up as the sun sleeps, stuck in a routine, a life that is not living.  
Junhui is young and Junhui is soft, and Junhui is pale skin, and forced smiles, and unbrushed hair. Junhui is done. He is a final farewell, a tearless face, erased of emotion, no longer wanting, no longer needing. Junhui is gone.

Wonwoo is young and Wonwoo is harsh and Wonwoo is uncaring. He is a feeble attempt at living, a cold, stony face, full of a past too heavy, always wanting, always needing, but Junhui is gone. Wonwoo is alone.

Somewhere along the lines of being alone, Wonwoo becomes whole. He becomes suffocated, trapped, filled to the brim with everything, every emotion, every thought, that he hasn’t been filled with for years. He wants, he needs, and he cries. Wonwoo is four am, and alcohol, and kitchen floors. Wonwoo is a thunderstorm, a forest fire, crashing, burning, falling.

**Author's Note:**

> I might post a happy ending to this, if not my fiends would probably force me to ;-;
> 
> Fun fact: Y'all should stan Noir... Pls  
> Actuall fun fact: I the other day I actually saw Tao(Huang ZiTao)
> 
> Let's be mutuals and scream about Seventeen and other groups
> 
> Twt: Ichogiwantodie  
> Ig: dawning_e


End file.
